A Mail Order Marriage Mistake

A Mail Order Marriage Mistake

Christian Mail Order Brides Collection

(Mail Order Marriage Mistake Series)

by

Montana West

Published by Global Grafx Press, LLC. © 2015

All Biblical quotations used in this manuscript are taken from the King James Bible or the English Standard Version of the Bible.

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Copyright © 2015 by Montana West

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A MAIL ORDER MARRIAGE MISTAKE 2

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PROLOGUE

Emma Thomas shivered in her four poster bed. It was the haunting time before dawn where the steady ticking of the hallway clock sounded like hammers in the air. Though Emma was curled up tightly beneath layers of bedding, the seventeen-year-old still felt cold. Lately she has been having sensations of being watched. It was foolish, a product of her fears of the future and marriage, her mother assured her, but alone in her bed with only the sound of the clock and the thumping of her heart, Emma was afraid.

Eyes shut, she prayed, ‘Dear Lord,’ and the words of Psalm 56, verses 3-4 came up through her mind, ‘When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid. What can flesh do to me?’

‘What could it,’ Emma reassured herself.

Yes, she would be brave. Emma opened her eyes and sat up, pushing the bedding aside and walking to the window. Defiantly, she opened her bedroom curtains and then sat again on the bed, looking around the room that was her sanctuary in her parents’ house.

The walls of Emma’s room were soft pink as were her curtains. The large princess four poster bed took up almost a quarter of the room, right opposite the large windows that took up the whole of one wall. In summer she had to use sheers to keep out the overly bright sunlight, but in spring the light was moderate and she would then spend hours and hours seated at her vanity table writing poetry and reading.

Much as Emma loved her bedroom and bed she sometimes felt that her mother had gone a little overboard with it. There were pink frills all over the bed and once in a while Emma wished she could rip them all off and leave the bed plain. To worsen matters, her vanity table and stool were also pink. She loved pink but felt that too much of it was more of a bother than beautiful. However, she chose to suffer in silence, humoring her mother whose every waking moment was wrapped up in her husband or her only child. Emma understood when her father locked himself in his study for long hours to escape his wife’s ministrations, which he sometimes grumbled to Emma were smothering him.

Enough woolgathering. It was too early to ask to be dressed in her day gown, but she couldn’t sit in here any longer either, alone with the clock and the lingering phantoms of her night time fears.

Emma wrapped herself in her dressing gown and made for the large kitchen at the back of the house where she knew Elizabeth would be in the process of preparing breakfast. Her parents were still asleep; they had been out attending the wedding of one of her father’s associates’ daughters. Though it was early, Bess would give Emma a glass of steaming hot tea with milk and tell her stories that would soon have her laughing, all fear forgotten.

There is my little lamb, Elizabeth Statton announced, a big smile on her plump face. Come to sneak some bread and honey in before breakfast?

Oh, Bess, Emma almost ran into the arms of her nanny, the woman who had been with the Thomas family even before she was born.

What is wrong, lambkin? Bess held out her arms and Emma took refuge in the arms that had held her many nights and the hands that had wiped away her tears and bandaged her bruises over the years. You seem frightened.

I felt it again, Bess, as though someone was watching me, and a cold hand was squeezing my heart, the young girl shivered. I’m scared.

Come and sit down little one. Bess led the frightened girl to the large round kitchen table. Usually this room cheered Emma up because of the warmth from the large modern coal stove that her father had bought a few months ago, as well as the delicious aroma of baking. Elizabeth had tried to teach Emma how to bake and even though the lessons had been mostly filled with laughter, Emma was a keen learner and could bake simple cakes and pies. Her mother frowned upon her visits to the kitchen, believing that her only daughter should not dirty her hands but leave all the chores for the servants, of whom the Thomas household had plenty.

But this morning, none of that held her interest. Her fear lingered, and as she sat down she refused to let go of Bess’s hand.

Remember what I always tell you, lambkin, you never have to be afraid for God is always watching you, Bess said, and Emma nodded. Remember the cross that your mama gave you for your fifteenth birthday?

Instinctively, Emma’s free hand went to her neck and she touched the gold cross. She had never taken it off from the moment her mother had put it around her neck. The cross and chain were made of pure gold, and the craftsman had made the chain so strong that it could not easily break.

Lambkin, that cross is not a talisman, but it represents life for all mankind. As long as you look to the cross for answers you will always be alright and all will be well.

But later that morning when Emma had gone to call on another of her young friends and Bess was setting up the tea tray for the afternoon, she was troubled.

Emma was a sensitive girl, yes, but not prone to vapors. Even as a child she had been fearless, never backing down from any challenge. She had learned how to walk when she was only nine months old and kept moving from that moment onwards. She was the darling of the household and all the servants loved the petite girl with her blond hair and hazel eyes, and even now, as a seventeen-year-old who had turned into a true beauty, she was still loved deeply by the servants.

From the moment Emma was born and her socialite mother Clarissa Thomas had placed the little babe in Bess’s arms, the woman had felt such deep love for the child. She was appointed as Emma’s wet nurse because her own son Trevor who was six months was already showing signs of stopping his nursing. Being Emma’s wet nurse had created a deep bond between Emma and Elizabeth and the two were very close.

Bess shook her head. For the last few weeks, her charge had showed signs of being very scared and the older woman did not take it lightly. She would be very cautious and keep a watchful eye on all the happenings in and around the house. She only wished Trevor were home from the high seas. The boy would know what to do.

***

Justice The Knife Mullins sat in the cold attic across the street from his target with two bottles of Old Hickory whiskey on his lap. One was for drinking and the second for the inevitable result of time and drink. This would be one of the easiest jobs The Knife had ever taken on. He grinned as he peered through the open window to the Thomas house. It was a cruel smile that would have made anyone who saw it shudder.

Like the household he was currently a guest of, the Thomas household was made up of good, God-fearing people who had no idea the monsters that lurked in the shadows of their glittering lives of chandeliers and silk. Servants and guests came and went as they pleased, and no one seemed concerned about safeguarding the house nor its occupants. Good. The Knife took a deep swig of his whiskey.

His position afforded him a clear view of the dining room of the Thomas residence, and he saw the servants setting up the table for dinner. According to his source, some guests were expected tonight and though he was slightly annoyed at the change of plans, he nevertheless comforted himself with the thought that soon he would accomplish what he had set out to do and would receive the one thousand dollars promised him for the murder of Reginald Thomas, Clarissa Thomas and their darling little princess, Emma. He never failed at any of his work, but the Thomas household was busier than usual these next two weeks. They entertained widely during the spring and as it was the beginning of spring there were many people in and around the house, and they rarely slept before dawn.

His eyes were drawn downwards towards the first floor of the Thomas home. The bedroom belonged to the young daughter of the house. A spoiled brat, he had been informed, and sole heiress to the vast estate that her father owned both in liquid cash and properties. The curtains were drawn though he could make out light from gas lamps. For the last week, the curtains had always been drawn, a fact which bothered him. He had cased this particular house for about three months and the curtains were always open, even during winter. However, the curtains were tightly drawn, as if the occupant was aware of being watched.

The Knife shook his head. It was doubtful she had noticed anything, though women were prone to hysterics sometimes, especially grand ladies like Emma. Even so, he would have to be more careful, and go over his plan once again. He was good, and he never took unnecessary risks. It was why he had managed so long doing murder for hire. He was not averse to changing plans at short notice, and he never took hurried jobs. Those were too risky no matter the sum offered. He preferred to observe his victims for months if need be and catch them at their most vulnerable, which made his work easier.

Soon, it would be dark and he could take his leave. The job would not be completed tonight, but soon.

Soon...

***

Our Mary will simply end up as an old maid, the shrill voice tried to whisper but failed miserably.

She is already is an old maid, a second voice joined in.

Millicent and Penelope, you are the worst people in the world, a third voice stated. Mary is our cousin and speaking ill about her is not right, and especially not at my wedding.

Melinda, you were always one with a soft heart and my mama said it is bad luck for you to have Mary as one of your bridesmaids when she is past her prime.

Shut up, Penelope, Melinda said.

The subject of the discussion just shook her head. She was beyond taking offense at these things. She had learned over the years to let all the nasty comments roll off her. In truth, she was an old maid at twenty-nine years of age with no prospects for marriage. Twenty-nine and plain, Mary had heard all sorts of comments from her family and friends. With time, she had realized that the more she reacted to them, the more they spewed unpleasant words to her and the more painful it was and she eventually learned to live with the disappointment of not finding any man willing to marry her.

Her youngest sister, who was the beauty of the family but the kindest of them all, was the only one to whom she confided. Jenna had told her over and over again that one day she would find the man who was worthy of her.

Mary, beauty is not just skin deep and unfortunately we have been brought up to judge people by their looks.

Easy for you to say, Jenna, you are so beautiful and your husband is also a very good looking man. Look at me, Mary had indicated her whole posture. Plain as a cow and with a shapeless figure to go with my face.

Coming from you that sounds so pathetic, and I expect better from you, Jenna had admonished gently. "You have always been my pillar of strength and your deep faith has taught me to view things from a more spiritual perspective. So what that people do not notice how pretty you are, but you have strength of character and determination, and as well you are kind and practical. Those are virtues that a good man will